


Flowers in Your Hair

by tothebatcave53



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Canon-typical language, Falling In Love, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Red vs Blue Secret Santa, Secret Santa, Tucker is still Tucker, Wash is a typical drama queen, Wash is stubborn and dumb about his feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothebatcave53/pseuds/tothebatcave53
Summary: Wash needs a job and as an ex-special ops guy, he isn't exactly finding returning to civilian life easy. He doesn't expect to end up in a flower shop and he certainly isn't planning to fall in love with the flower shop owner but plans aren't always meant to be followed.
Relationships: Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my secret santa gift for [sandras-loli](https://sandras-loli.tumblr.com/) who wanted a flower shop au. I hope you like this, and can forgive that Wash is slightly a little bit angsty. Thats just how this boy be.

It starts like this. 

With a blue tie. 

With a blue tie, a gray shirt and an honorable discharge from the military that left a bad taste on Wash's tongue and the people in his squad dead. 

It starts at a coffee shop, with an interview and his blue tie. 

"Military huh?"

Wash fidgets under the stare of the man across from him. Gruff demeanor, salt and pepper colored hair, military badges lined all along the back wall of the little coffee shop Wash is currently interviewing at in hopes of a job. 

"Yes sir, special forces, discharged for medical."

The man, who had only introduced himself as Sarge hums, gives Wash a good once over. "I'm a military man myself, forced into retirement. Still in my prime if you ask me, took a blast from a vehicle, pinned by my own car. Still fit for duty I say but there just ain't no arguing with these new age doctors. Used to be a man took a hit, got up and kept on truckin'."

Wash tries to hold back a grimace, mind flashing back too quickly to the fires and the screaming. 

"You color blind?"

"Wha..?" Wash blinks back to the present, to this interview for a little pointless coffee shop job that's supposed to help him integrate back with society. The Sargent is staring at his blue tie intently. "No sir."

Sarge hums and snaps his little notebook shut with a finality that Wash can feel in his bones.

"Thanks for your time today son, I’ll give ya a call later in the week when I made my decision."

Wash shakes the other man’s hand, knows with certainty that he won’t be receiving any sort of call back and notices how just about everything in the coffee shop is a bright and vibrant red.

It ends with the jingle of a little bell as he pushes open the coffee shop door and heads outside, his blue tie a noose around his neck as he’s strangled with anxiety and fear about what he’s supposed to do.

But what is an ending except the start of a new beginning?

This beginning starts with a cat, hissing and spitting at Wash as he walks across the street to nowhere.

"Hey there," Wash says softly, squatting down to get a look at the cat. He’s under a stand filled with brightly colored flowers, the sun streaming perfectly onto that particular piece of concrete where the cat had been happily dozing until Wash’s shadow had blocked it.

It’s a big tom cat, huge paws and torn up ears from years of too much fighting on the streets. It’s gray with tiny speckled spots of burnt orange fur. He takes a swipe at Wash’s fingers, claws extended and hisses again.

Wash immediately loves him.

He keeps his hand out and still as claws tug at his skin but when he doesn’t react negatively, the cat pulls back and sticks his nose out to give Wash a curious sniff. 

"Oh I see you have made friends with Freckles, Freckles loves to make new friends."

Wash looks up at the giant man that now looms above him, all smiles, dimples and a curly head of dark hair.

The cat bumps under Wash’s fingers with a rumble before it winds its way around the giant’s legs, a loud purr erupting from him.

Wash straightens, ready to be on his way with a polite smile and a goodbye to the cat when he notices a red flash of hair coming toward them.

"Hello miss Carolina."

Carolina comes to a stop in front of Wash, turning to the other man. "Hello Caboose."

"Are you here to yell at Tucker?" Caboose asks, an impossibly large smile on his face. "Because it is not lunch time yet and also, yelling at Tucker comes before car time but after nap time."

Wash raises an eyebrow but Carolina just laughs softly. "No I'm not here to yell at Tucker. Hey Wash."

"Boss," he greets. 

"How'd the interview go?" Carolina had been the one to get him his interview opportunity, already employed at _The Red Shotgun Cafe._ Apparently it was a good place for former military to get used to civilian life again and Wash trusted his old CO's judgement. 

And he'd somehow royally screwed it up. 

"I wouldn't hold my breath for a call back," he mumbles, shuffling his feet at the guilt of his failure. 

"That is because Mr. Sargent likes the color red and you are wearing a blue tie," Caboose informs, inserting himself into their conversation. "I would know, he yells out his front door all the time about the dirty blues."

"Huh." Carolina folds her arms, frowning. "I didn't think Grif was serious when he said to wear red."

Wash looks down at his tie, feeling almost personally betrayed by the piece of cloth. "Guess I'm back to job searching."

"Oh are you looking for a job?" Caboose asks, lifting up Freckles. The cat still looks furious but it purrs in Caboose's hands. "Tucker is looking for someone to help him with things because I start too many fires but that is what makes the red and orange flowers, clearly. Stupid Tucker."

Wash glances toward Carolina. "I don't think-"

"What's your name?" Caboose asks at the same time Wash tries to speak.

"Washington," Carolina supplies helpfully. 

Before Wash can protest further Caboose is turning to the open door, voice booming. "Tucker! Mr. Washingtub would like a job!"

Wash gives Carolina a hopeless look but she just grins. "Go on Wash, maybe you'll have better luck with Tucker."

"Why do I feel like you're sentencing me to my doom?"

She pats his shoulder and heads across the street for the coffee shop where Wash can see Sarge glowering suspiciously out the front window at them. With a sigh, he turns and follows Caboose into the flower shop. 

He isn't sure what he was expecting but the inside is just a normal flower shop. It smells nice, delicate arrangements litter the area in a controlled sort of chaos. The big window by the door streams sunlight into the room, dust particles dancing in its beams. Small knick knacks are scattered among the petals and leaves, little extra things to be purchased by customers. Music filters in from the back room, some sort of electric violin mashup. It feels peaceful, quieter than the coffee shop.

Wash turns his head as he looks around slowly and freezes when he sees who he can only presume is Tucker. 

He’s shorter than Wash, his teal shirt riding up his stomach as he stands on tiptoe to water one of the hanging flower pots. His dreads are pulled back into a messy bun, hair spilling out around him and down his shoulders. Flowers are tucked into it, pops of gold and blue color that stand out beautifully against his dark hair and skin. One is tucked behind his ear, the blue petals brushing against his perfect face..

Tucker is radiant.

"Tucker, Tucker, Tucker!" Caboose shouts, breaking the moment of crisis Wash is silently having over the gorgeous man in front of them. "Mr. Washingtub is looking for a job, he could work here with us!"

Tucker turns and Wash is greeted by bright brown eyes, the sun catching the little flecks of gold in his irises. Tucker's gorgeous and then somehow manages to ruin it completely by opening his mouth. 

"If we had a garden I'd put our tulips together," Tucker purrs as he saunters over, holding a flower out to Wash. "Bow chicka bow wow."

"Uh," Wash says, trying to recover from the mental brain whiplash he's experiencing. "No thanks."

"Tucker, Mr. Washingtub is looking for a job," Caboose repeats helpfully, bouncing on his toes. "He talked to Mr. Sargent but he is not a red because he is clearly wearing blue and he can be our new best friend!"

Wash sputters in confusion but Tucker scowls, cutting him off. 

"Caboose he doesn't want to be your best friend."

"Then he can be our new Church. Which is the same thing"

Immediately Wash sees fury cloud across Tucker's features, teeth biting into his lip hard enough to almost break skin before he simply deflates, sighing. "Caboose go clean something or finish watering the outside plants, I don't care just leave me alone to talk to…" Tucker turns to Wash expectantly. 

"Washington, you can just call me Wash," Wash offers, rubbing his neck at the awkward atmosphere. 

"Okay, leave me alone to talk to Wash."

Tucker sighs again as Caboose leaves before turning back to Wash. "So you actually want a job or did Caboose just wrangle you into one of his crazy ideas?"

"I am looking for a job, but it's fine, I can go. Carolina just thought I might have some luck here since I apparently did something to offend Sarge across the street."

"Nah, he's just crazy." Tucker eyes Wash up and down. "Carolina huh? You guys banging?"

"Jesus, no!" Wash shakes his head. "She's like family."

"Just checking."

"She's my old CO."

"Military huh? Us too."

Wash barely contains a grumbled, skeptical, _'really'_. He feels like this is a waste of time but Tucker hasn't told him to leave yet and Wash does need a job. 

"Look if you actually want a job, it's yours. I need someone a couple nights a week to close up and to just help around the store because Caboose is shit at helping out around here. Sound like something you're interested in?"

Wash nods, confused, because certainly it isn't that easy but Tucker's already giving him a drop dead gorgeous smile and offering him a hand to shake. 

"Awesome. I'm Tucker, welcome to Blood Gulch Blues. It's nice to meet you Washington."


	2. Chapter 2

Wash, surprisingly, finds the flower shop relaxing despite Caboose's affinity for lighting fires and Tucker's attempt to flirt with anyone that walks through the front door.

"Hey Wash," Tucker says each morning when he comes in. 

"Night Wash," Tucker says each night when they close up. 

Its comfortable somehow. They move from awkward small talk into something close to actual friendly banter. It's the most human Wash has felt since he's returned home. 

Tucker beats Wash in to work one morning, greeting him at the door with a grin, leaning pointedly against his broom. "Hey good lookin'," Tucker purrs, batting his ridiculously long eyelashes. 

"Hey Tucker." Wash rolls his eyes but hides a smile as he turns to hang his jacket up and grab his apron. “Where’s Caboose?”

“He already went over to Sarge’s to visit Donut. I didn’t discourage him.”

“You’re evil.”

Tucker grins. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Wash.”

Caboose being absent means actual work gets done, which is so rare Wash has no idea how Tucker keeps the shop actually open most of the time. Wash waters the plants, Tucker sweeps the floor, Wash settles their books for the previous day, Tucker puts on his electric violin playlist and dances around the shop.

Wash finds himself leaning his chin against his palm, eyes flicking away from the computer screen to watch Tucker. The other man cares so little about his surroundings, doesn’t mind that anyone could walk past the front windows and see him. Tucker just lets himself move, a smile on his lips and a peacefulness that settles around him and the things he touches like a heavy blanket. The sun streaming through the windows make Tucker glow, his head thrown back as he moves with his broom, hips swaying slowly with his dance.

He’s stunning.

“What ya lookin’ at Wash?” Tucker asks, breaking Wash from his internalized longing. 

He panics, backpedaling mentally. A blush is crawling up his neck, eyes flickering back to the computer screen in a desperate wish that Tucker will just ignore him completely. Of course that doesn’t happen as a torso drapes across the counter.

Wash hates his life as Tucker stares up at him with his gorgeous brown eyes. 

“The flowers!” Wash blurts out, grabbing at the first thing that pops into his head. Anything to move away from the fact that Tucker is about to puzzle out that Wash finds him incredibly attractive.

Tucker tilts his head, dreads spilling across his face. “The flowers?” 

“In your hair. I like them.” Wash blushes harder, his cheeks flaming hot at this point. It's a terrible cover, the whole thing is going up in flames around him and any minute now Tucker is going to call him on his shit and tell him to get lost. “They look good,” he finishes, lame and voice fading.

Instead of teasing him though Tucker just smiles. “Thanks Wash.”

Wash looks back down at Tucker, surprised at the sincerity.

“Can I try something?”

“Uh… sure.”

Tucker bounces up, gathering flowers from around the shop before he comes back over to Wash and lays them across the counter. He trims the stems short, arranging colors together or discarding them in a pattern Wash doesn’t understand but finds enticing nonetheless.

When Tucker comes around behind him though, Wash tenses, starting to turn. 

“Its okay.” Tucker stops, hands where Wash can still see them and waits. “I’m not going to do anything bad dude. Trust me?” Tucker’s hands stay within his field of vision, fingers spread open and nonthreatening.

Wash stills, wants to pull away because he doesn’t trust anyone, not since the war. Or so he likes to think, to reassure himself he’s safe around other people because if he doesn’t let anyone get close, nothing can hurt him again.

Except he does trust Tucker; after weeks of working with him and watching his goofy dances, his breathtaking smiles, the gentle way he cares for and helps Caboose throughout the day, it would be impossible not to. 

“Yeah…” Wash breathes, turning back to face the shop and baring the back of his neck to the other. He waits for pain, a knife to slide into the fragile flesh but nothing comes. Instead there are gentle fingers at the base of his skull, threading through his hair in a pleasant way that makes Wash shiver.

“Hold still, let an artist work.”

Tucker pulls open a drawer, grabbing little pins. Wash feels them slide into his hair, waits, curious as Tucker plucks up flower after flower until he hums with satisfaction and pulls back. Immediately Wash misses the warmth of the touch but he turns, shoving that feeling deep down inside where he plans to examine it never.

“Take a look handsome.”

Wash does, leaning back to see himself in one of the mirrors inside the back of the flower cases.

Tucker has pinned light yellow flowers into his hair, gentle purples and blues mixed in giving a soft pop of color among the blond and gray of his hair. They sit mostly on the left side of his head, instead of the seemingly random placement that they hold in Tucker’s dreads. There is one delicate flower on the right, tucked behind his ear. The blue petals tickle his skin when he moves and when Tucker comes into view, grinning at his work, Wash realizes they match. The same blue flower sits behind Tucker’s ear, brushes his cheek as well and Wash flushes a deep red.

“See? Not too bad, just enough to add to your already stunning features.”

Wash raises an eyebrow in question.

Tucker’s hand comes up again nice and slow, brushes just below the blue flower petal. “Makes your freckles stand out more, brings out the blue in your eyes,” he breathes, the pad of his thumb dragging gently across the skin of Wash’s cheek. 

Wash sucks in a breath, stills as they stare at each other through the mirror.

They’re so close, Wash can feel the heat radiating off of Tucker. He doesn’t want to pull away, instead wants to push back into the chest right behind him, lean into the hand that is so close to cupping his face.

Wash wants to give himself over to Tucker, see what happens if he just decides to take that plunge.

Their moment is broken with Caboose’s loud return, the front door slamming open. “Tucker! Tucker! Tucker!”

Wash leaps from where he was seated, face a brilliant shade of red. “I’m going to go water the outside plants!” he says before practically bolting through the front door. He doesn’t stay to watch Tucker’s face fall, or to watch him quietly clean up the few flowers that are left on the counter. Wash ignores his own longing that is starting to bloom in his chest because he isn’t ready to feel, doesn’t want to think that he can again. Not when he knows what kind of pain comes from caring about others and the aching wounds that are created when they leave.

It’s easier to pretend he isn’t human.

He avoids Tucker’s gaze the rest of the day, hurrying home when they lock up for the evening. Wash ignores Caboose’s invitation to dinner, Tucker’s gentle _‘see ya later Wash’_ and leaves.

If when he gets home to his quiet, run down and sad apartment and looks at himself in the mirror before gently picking out each flower and tucking them away for safekeeping, well, that's a truth he isn’t ready to look at either but it's one he keeps curled tight in his heart anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I live for Wash denying his feelings even when they're slapping him right in the face?  
> Yes. Yes I do.


End file.
